


mistletoe memories

by Satine86



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Mistletoe, Romance, carwheeler appreciation week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: Two times Anne and Phillip were caught under the mistletoe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for carwheeler week day 3: fLUFF
> 
> This is a two-parter, side A and B if you will. The second part is coming soon. Also I looked up mistletoe traditions in Victorian times which is where the berry picking part came from, because I'd personally never heard of that before. But I thought it was cute so I ran with it.

The circus was normally rather chaotic. People coming and going, constantly practicing new routines and tricks in hopes of thrilling the crowds. Backstage was full of costume changes and mending and someone missing this prop or that. And that didn’t even include show nights when patrons would file in by the scores until it was standing room only.

However, this was a different kind of chaos. 

The circus was done up in cheery reds and vivid greens, boughs of evergreens strung up everywhere. A tree had been brought in for the celebration, decked out in gold and silver with a plethora of gifts underneath. Tables had been brought out from backstage, covered in more food than Anne had ever seen in her life. Some of the troupe were playing music as wine and champagne flowed, everyone laughing and merry and bright. 

Christmas in the circus was something new, but it was very easy to get used to. Anne watched as Caroline and Helen kept drifting back toward the gifts, trying to figure out which were theirs. With so many people it had only made sense everyone drew a single name for their gift exchange, keeping it anonymous added to the magic of it all. 

Anne was busy taking it all in, enjoying the sight of everyone so happy and relaxed, when a newcomer arrived. 

“Merry Christmas.” Anne looked to Phillip, his coat and hat still on, a dusting of snow on his shoulders. 

“Merry Christmas,” she said and noticed a small box in his hand. He quickly hid it behind his back. “You’re late.” 

“Or am I fashionably on time?” 

“Is that how the upper crust does it?” she teased. 

“It is when they miss the streetcar and have to walk all the way here.” He laughed lightly and removed his hat. Phillip quickly tucked his gloves and the small parcel inside, but not before Anne caught sight of a rich purple ribbon tied around it. She wondered who it was for. 

“You should get something warm to drink. And eat. There’s so much food.” Anne pointed toward the tables, at the piles of treats.

“I see that.” He paused for a moment, taking in the sights. “This is a lot different than I was expecting.” 

“I know, but it’s nice. Isn’t it?” She smiled at him, which he returned warmly. 

“Yes, it is.” 

They were interrupted when Caroline and Helen finally realized Phillip’s presence and practically pounced on him, dragging him off to show him something. Perhaps to get his help locating their gifts in the pile. He cast Anne an apologetic look before his attention was completely monopolized by the girls. 

Anne giggled to herself, watching as he focused on the girls. She didn’t mean to spy, but she did keep a watchful eye on Phillip as he settled in amongst the troupe. And she did catch him when he placed two packages under the tree, one flat and square and likely a book, while the other was the small box with the purple ribbon. 

The party progressed in much the same fashion it had started. Everyone loudly singing and dancing. When the temptation of presents grew too strong, Helen and Caroline got to play Santa Claus; carefully reading each tag on the various parcels and passing them out. Anne thought this was particularly fun. 

It was wonderful to watch everyone unwrapping their gifts, delight and joy lighting their faces as if they were no older than the Barnum girls. The pile of gifts slowly dwindled as the pile of ribbons and bows and paper grew higher and higher. Anne noted that it was Helen who received the thin package Phillip had placed under the tree: a book of fairy tales he promised to read to her next time he visited. 

That meant the other present must have been for Caroline. Although eventually she received a clutch of new hair ribbons in every shade of the rainbow. When every other gift had been opened, everyone admiring their spoils as the revelry continued, Anne noticed the box with the purple ribbon remained untouched. Helen also noticed.

“There’s one more!” She hurried forward with the giddy enthusiasm only a child can hold, and snatched it up. “Anne!” she cried. “It’s for you” 

“But I already have my present.” 

“Santa must’ve brought it!” Helen cried in delight, thrusting it into her hands. 

Anne gently pulled on the ribbon, let it slither out of her grasp and over the box. Swallowing thickly she unfolded the flap and pulled out what was inside. 

“Oh,” she breathed. It was a jewelry box. A very particular one, in fact. Anne had saw it in a store window some time ago. Made of enameled glass with handpainted flowers adoring the top and sides. It was delicate and extravagant and she had longed for it. 

“Isn’t that...?” Lettie asked, sitting down next to Anne.

“Yes. It’s even more beautiful up close.”

“Who’s it from? W.D?” Lettie reached out and traced a gentle finger over the lid. 

“Not me.” W.D. leaned between them to inspect it.

“It’s from Santa!” Helen said again, rocking onto her toes. 

“Yes, Santa.” Anne flashed her a quick smile before letting her gaze drift over to Phillip. He seemed very busy in examining the contents of his cup, a little too nonchalant. 

After a round of guesses as to who it might be from, Lettie started clearing the others away to return to the festivities. Anne took that moment to find Phillip.

“Thank you,” she said softly. 

“For what?” He attempted to look innocent, but Anne knew better.

“I saw the package, the purple ribbon, when you arrived. Thank you. I love it.” 

He flushed immediately, the tips of his ears going pink. “I heard you telling Lettie about it, and you sounded so… I could tell you really wanted it. I know it isn’t exactly a proper gift to give, that’s why I waited until now. When it would be anonymous. Or so I thought.” 

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said with a smile. “It was still very kind of you, and I appreciate it very much.” Anne felt her own face grow hot, which only grew hotter when they were converged upon by several of the troupe and their good-natured jeering. 

Anne could see Phillip in the corner of her eye, could see him tilt his head back and look up. He tensed and Anne looked up as well. Floating above them, suspended by a piece of string currently attached to Vasily’s hand, was a clutch of mistletoe. They both tore their gazes away and their eyes locked. Anne shrugged, just the barest of movement, and nodded her permission.

Phillip hesitated, his face even redder now. Anne could scarcely breathe, and it felt as if her heart might beat out of her chest. Phillip leaned forward slowly, cautiously, and placed his lips at the corner of her mouth. Anne briefly let her eyes drift shut at the contact. There was a part of her that wanted to turn her head, to lay her lips fully against his, no matter how scandalous it was. 

With everyone happily cheering for the spectacle, Phillip pulled back and reached up to pluck the single white berry that was left. 

“It seems the mistletoe has lost its magic.” He swallowed thickly, held the berry in the palm of his hand between them as everyone started to disperse, the game now over. “Sorry,” Phillip whispered once they were alone. 

“You didn’t do anything that you need to apologize for.” 

He was clearly still embarrassed, over the kiss, over the gift. His fingers closed around the berry and he dropped his fist to his side, examining his shoes thoroughly. Maybe it was too much wine that made her do what she did next, or maybe it was the time of year. Or maybe it was just because she wanted to. 

“Phillip?” she said. 

His head shot up at his name, his first name. It was informal and not how she would normally address him, but it didn’t matter. She liked it, and yearned to say it again. 

“Thank you again, for the jewelry box.” 

“You’re welcome,” he whispered. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Anne spoke again.

“And I don’t think it lost all its magic.”

Before he could question her, Anne reached up and gently laid her fingers on his jaw. Then she pressed a lingering kiss to his opposite cheek. When she pulled back, letting her fingers fall from his face, she met his gaze squarely. 

“Merry Christmas, Phillip,” she said. 

“Merry Christmas, Anne.” 

As she turned to join Lettie and the others, Anne realized there was one thing better than saying his name. And that was hearing him say hers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carwheeler Week day 6: Post-canon (with some fluff of course)

It seemed every year the Christmas celebrations grew a little more chaotic, a little more wild. And Anne wouldn't have it any other way.

There were multiple trees of various sizes peppered across the circus grounds, and tucked inside the big top. Brightly colored baubles and boughs were strewn about, the decorations slowly being built upon throughout the month until it looked like a page out of a children’s book. Right down to the dusting of snow covering the grounds.

The inside of the big top was brightly lit and welcoming. As always the long ables were laden with endless plates of food and warm drinks while there was music and laughter and revelry, all signaling the arrival of Christmas in the circus. This time with all the new talent and the stage crew, along with their families, the big top was so packed full of people it more resembled a show night than a simple gathering for the troupe.

It was a wonderful sight to behold.

Anne wound her way through the groups of people, wishing everyone Merry Christmas as she went. Someone -- Lettie, she thought -- passed her a cup of mulled wine. Stopping to take a sip, Anne relished the warmth of it just as a pair of familiar arms circled her waist. Phillip rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I was wondering where you had gotten to.” She eyed him askance. “What have you been up to?”

“I was taking care of something very important.” He lifted his hand to reveal a small package resting on his palm. It looked to be a folded handkerchief with a deep purple ribbon wrapped around it. It seemed quite familiar.

“What is that?”

“A present.”

“I gathered as much, but it's not under the tree, Phillip.” She tilted her head toward the biggest tree placed in center ring. An almost obscene number of packages underneath, one for every person in attendance.

“It's too special to be under the tree. It might’ve gotten lost. Now go on, open it.” He stepped back and gently pulled the cup from her hands, setting it aside. He laid the small package in her open palm. It was heavier than she would have guessed.

Anne didn't even bother pretending to hide her excitement as she untied the bow, and folded back the corners of the handkerchief. Inside was a golden locket on a matching chain. It was heart shaped with a single rose finely etched on the front.

“Oh, Phillip. It's beautiful.” She traced a finger over the etching, admiring the craftsmanship, before looking up at him. A smile stretching across her face. “What did you put inside?”

“Nothing. I figured I would leave that to you. Although,” he added, eyes light, “I hear it is very common for young ladies to put something that reminds them of their sweetheart inside.”

“Well then,” she said and popped open the locket to inspect it. “Good thing I have a sweetheart to be reminded of.”

“Mostly I just wanted you to have something nice to put in that jewelry box,” he teased with a laugh.

Anne shoved his shoulder. “Do you even know what I use it for?”

“The pins for your wig.”

“Yes, and I use it everyday. I love it.” She did love it, and had since the moment she held it in her hand. Even if for no other reason than the fact he had been the one to gift it to her.

“I see.” Phillip took the locket and moved behind her. Anne gathered her hair into a bun while he hooked the clasp, his fingers brushing softly against the back of her neck. Deliberate.

Once the necklace was secured Anne turned around to face him once again, and lifted her hand to trace her fingers over it lightly, “I love this, too.”

“I'm glad,” he said with a smile.

“Although I love this the most.” Anne reached up to frame his face with her hands, brushed her thumbs against the apples of his cheeks.

“I am very glad.” He laughed and gently grabbed her wrists. Pulling her hands from his face he brushed a kiss against her knuckles. “Wait here for just a moment, there's one more thing I need to get.”

“All right,” she said slowly, trying to read his face.

Before she could study him too closely he let go of her hands and disappeared past the tables, toward one of the Christmas trees. Anne waited, tried to be mostly patient, until he returned with one hand behind his back. He looked pleased with himself. She wrinkled her nose.

“And what is the final surprise?” she asked.

Instead of answering her, Phillip pulled a bundle of mistletoe from behind his back. Tied together with a vibrant red bow and covered in pearly white berries.

Anne snorted. “I don't think mistletoe is necessary if you want to kiss me.”

“Perhaps not, but it is a tradition.” He moved in close and held up the bundle of mistletoe. “And as the tradition goes a gentleman, such as myself, can steal a kiss from a lady, such as yourself.”

“Then he picks a berry,” Anne supplied as Phillip lifted it over head. “No more berries means no more kisses. The magic is gone.” She looked up at the mistletoe again, at the clusters of white. “There are a lot of berries, Phillip.”

“Are there?” He glanced up, amused. “I hadn't noticed.”

Anne snaked her arms around his neck, smoothing her hand over the back of his head and grinned at him.

“It seems to me those berries mean a lot of stolen kisses.”

Phillip pretended to carefully inspect the mistletoe, tilting his head this way and that. “I would guess close to a dozen,” he finally said.

“I’m not certain how I feel about such thievery. But,” she added with another pointed glance up, “it is bad luck to refuse a kiss under the mistletoe. So I suppose I must suffer through.”

“However will you cope?” He laughed.

“It will be quite daunting, but I clearly can’t risk any bad luck.” She shrugged and sighed dramatically just as Phillip wound his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The mistletoe now seemingly forgotten.

“Clearly.” Phillip let his mouth hover over hers, their lips just barely brushing. “One,” he whispered but instead of pressing his lips to hers he turned his head and kissed her cheek.

Anne huffed a laugh and arched an eyebrow at him when he pulled back. He remained completely indifferent as he moved his lips over hers again.

“Two,” he said and started to move his mouth to her other cheek.

This time, however, Anne was not so passive. She turned her head at the last second and caught his lips in a kiss, slow and sweet. Her lips traced over his, and she slid her fingers into his hair. After a long moment she broke the kiss and looked him in the eye.

“Three,” she whispered and kissed him again. Anne could feel him smiling into the kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Anne,” he said against her mouth, his arms tightening around her.

“Merry Christmas, Phillip,” she replied. And then they didn’t speak again for a long time.


End file.
